When she starts shoving at his clothes, there's no protest. He helps, getting her out of her corset, and he stares in awe, grinning impishly, his mouth still a little red with her blood. The way that she says his name, the way that his pulse races, and he can feel that sweet sweet ache where she drank from him- it's all intoxicating, perfect. He wants her, wants more of her, and all he can do is slide closer, nuzzle into her skin. His arms go up, helping her get the shirt off his chest, letting her toss it away. Her own shirt was stripped off before they began, and he sighs softly as he presses his bare chest against her own.
He wants to take her, gentle and soft, take his time, explore her body with his mouth and his hands, tease her to orgasm and then take her when she's trembling and aching for him. But this isn't the moment for it. His control is already gone, he's aching for her, every second feels a second too long. Her skin feels so soft against him, and he wants her now, lacks the patience for what he wants to give her. His fingers already undoing his pants, shoving them down off his hips as he presses between her thighs, navigating her skirts so that he can press against her through the scant barrier of their underthings.
They're wrapped together, and he doesn't want to let go just to strip them both down to the skin. So he makes do, shoving his own down, and-- well, he intends to just drag her own up her thighs, but he's tense and on edge, and the delicate fabric comes apart in his fingers when he tugs a little too hard. He looks at her, a little apologetic, kissing up against her chest, pausing to suck against her nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue and then murmuring a soft apology into her collarbone as he made his way up her body.
"Yours," he breathes, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. "My beautiful queen," he murmurs. "You're so lovely, so sweet-- and I need you," he murmurs in between kisses against her skin. There was something about her. He'd always had a thing for redheads, and she had rescued him, but it was more than that, too. There was a sharpness about her and a sweetness, and her every touch enticed him, unraveled him. She was an addiction he didn't want to escape.
They kiss, lips sealed and tongues sliding against one another, and at that invitation, still gasping for breath, he slides fingers between her thighs, rubbing against that bundle of nerves, and then dragging down to slide down against her sex. His fingers sink into her, thrusting a few times which is as long as he can stand, just wanting to make sure she's wet and ready for him. "You're perfect, Natalia--" It's all he can spare before one hand curls against her hip, the other steadying himself as he lines up against her and slowly sinks in with a choked gasp, and wide blue eyes that look down at her helplessly.
The subtle but unmistakable sound of ripping fabric brought her briefly up out of the depths of unbelievable desire, and Natalia blinked eyes gone hazy with passion, then bit her lower lip on an amused chuckle as she realized just what had happened. It tickled her mirth, and she squirmed a bit playfully under her lover's apologetic ministrations, the feel of his warm lips on her breast catching the breath in her throat.
Realizing that they were tangled with each other, haphazardly undressed but no less eager, Natalia willingly parted her mouth for James's tongue, kissing him as if she'd never be able to do so again. She arched upwards into his seeking hand, shivering with a muted moan against his mouth when rough fingers sank into slick, wet heat. She sighed soft encouraging endearments against his skin as he prepared her, hips bucking a little impatiently at such a bold, sure tease.
But then he was there, dragging hot and heavy against her, and she snatched a quick, steadying breath before - "...James...!" It was a keened cry, and she felt him penetrate her fully, easily, and she shuddered around him, squeezing tight, knowing she never wanted to ever let him go. He was hers. She was his. It may as well have been written in stone. Natalia knew they would never be able to go back, not now.
"My beautiful one," she whispered at his cheek, heated and flushed beneath him, her now-bare legs wrapped tightly around Bucky's hips. "I love how you feel...inside me." Even now, the urge for completion still frothed, but Natalia also wanted to savor him, despite the long years they'd have together. She shifted her hips, feeling a spike of pure pleasure bolt through her loins, and arched her back with a low moan, delighting in the way their bare bodies pressed and rubbed together. Her nipples hard against his chest, his hips tight against hers.
Bidden by an unknown desire, Natalia hissed a soft breath and flattened both of her hands to Bucky's back, only to draw eight white lines down the length of his spine, her nails marking him: hers, hers, hers. Her hips now bucked beneath his, a silent imperative; she wanted all of him, and her possessive kiss, made up of tongues and teeth, urged him for more.
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
no subject
He wants to take her, gentle and soft, take his time, explore her body with his mouth and his hands, tease her to orgasm and then take her when she's trembling and aching for him. But this isn't the moment for it. His control is already gone, he's aching for her, every second feels a second too long. Her skin feels so soft against him, and he wants her now, lacks the patience for what he wants to give her. His fingers already undoing his pants, shoving them down off his hips as he presses between her thighs, navigating her skirts so that he can press against her through the scant barrier of their underthings.
They're wrapped together, and he doesn't want to let go just to strip them both down to the skin. So he makes do, shoving his own down, and-- well, he intends to just drag her own up her thighs, but he's tense and on edge, and the delicate fabric comes apart in his fingers when he tugs a little too hard. He looks at her, a little apologetic, kissing up against her chest, pausing to suck against her nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue and then murmuring a soft apology into her collarbone as he made his way up her body.
"Yours," he breathes, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. "My beautiful queen," he murmurs. "You're so lovely, so sweet-- and I need you," he murmurs in between kisses against her skin. There was something about her. He'd always had a thing for redheads, and she had rescued him, but it was more than that, too. There was a sharpness about her and a sweetness, and her every touch enticed him, unraveled him. She was an addiction he didn't want to escape.
They kiss, lips sealed and tongues sliding against one another, and at that invitation, still gasping for breath, he slides fingers between her thighs, rubbing against that bundle of nerves, and then dragging down to slide down against her sex. His fingers sink into her, thrusting a few times which is as long as he can stand, just wanting to make sure she's wet and ready for him. "You're perfect, Natalia--" It's all he can spare before one hand curls against her hip, the other steadying himself as he lines up against her and slowly sinks in with a choked gasp, and wide blue eyes that look down at her helplessly.
no subject
Realizing that they were tangled with each other, haphazardly undressed but no less eager, Natalia willingly parted her mouth for James's tongue, kissing him as if she'd never be able to do so again. She arched upwards into his seeking hand, shivering with a muted moan against his mouth when rough fingers sank into slick, wet heat. She sighed soft encouraging endearments against his skin as he prepared her, hips bucking a little impatiently at such a bold, sure tease.
But then he was there, dragging hot and heavy against her, and she snatched a quick, steadying breath before - "...James...!" It was a keened cry, and she felt him penetrate her fully, easily, and she shuddered around him, squeezing tight, knowing she never wanted to ever let him go. He was hers. She was his. It may as well have been written in stone. Natalia knew they would never be able to go back, not now.
"My beautiful one," she whispered at his cheek, heated and flushed beneath him, her now-bare legs wrapped tightly around Bucky's hips. "I love how you feel...inside me." Even now, the urge for completion still frothed, but Natalia also wanted to savor him, despite the long years they'd have together. She shifted her hips, feeling a spike of pure pleasure bolt through her loins, and arched her back with a low moan, delighting in the way their bare bodies pressed and rubbed together. Her nipples hard against his chest, his hips tight against hers.
Bidden by an unknown desire, Natalia hissed a soft breath and flattened both of her hands to Bucky's back, only to draw eight white lines down the length of his spine, her nails marking him: hers, hers, hers. Her hips now bucked beneath his, a silent imperative; she wanted all of him, and her possessive kiss, made up of tongues and teeth, urged him for more.